


Love Like You

by yeahitshowed



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, ships will develop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-07-28 22:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7659028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeahitshowed/pseuds/yeahitshowed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delphine is assigned as Rachel Duncan's monitor; Rachel buys her a hair straightener.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When Delphine was little, she used to dream about having the biggest birthday party in the world. As much as she loved her mother’s delicately-crafted cake and her father’s booming rendition of _joyeux anniversaire,_  she couldn’t help but crave more — more people, more presents, the whole house bursting with things just for her.  

How pleased her younger self would have been if she could have seen Delphine’s first Dyad gala, more extravagant and exhilaratingly unnecessary than anything she’d ever imagined. The gala wasn’t for her, of course, but it was easy to forget that, watching heads turn as she walked in on Aldous Leekie’s arm. She lost count of the ice sculptures they passed, the buffets, the live entertainment. 

“Don’t lose focus, Doctor Cormier,” Aldous said; “There will be plenty of time to enjoy the festivities later.”

“Of course,” Delphine said, tearing her eyes off a woman’s glittering, possibly jewel-encrusted gown. “I’m sorry.”

Aldous smiled, clumsily brushing a hand through Delphine’s hair. She’d have to re-gel the curls. “It’s all right, my dear. I want you to enjoy yourself, but first — ah, Rachel!” 

Delphine’s grip on the bones of Aldous’s arm tightened. Rachel — Rachel Duncan, tag number classified, everything else classified: her first project for the Dyad. She was to be Rachel’s ‘monitor,’ as she understood it.

A woman in a crisp white dress turned from her conversation at Aldous’s voice. Delphine recognized the face; she had examined it often enough through a 3D model, its symmetry and utter — _lifelikeness_ impressing her. Too used to staring into the eyes of a digital rendering, Delphine didn’t realize for a moment that Rachel Duncan was looking at her.

“Hello, Rachel,” Aldous said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Rachel kept looking at Delphine.

“Delphine Cormier,” Rachel said. It didn’t sound like a greeting. Her eyes flicked to Aldous. “Are you giving me your leftovers?”

Delphine’s face burned — how did Rachel —  _why_  did Rachel — but it didn’t matter. Focusing on that face, the face she knew, Delphine extended a hand and smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, Rachel.”

Rachel glanced at Delphine’s hand once before returning her attention to Aldous. “I thought we had discussed this,” she said.

“She’s very smart,” Aldous said, like Delphine wasn’t standing there with her hand outstretched and her cheeks vermillion. “I’m sure you two will get along swimmingly.”

Delphine let her hand fall. Hearing Rachel speak so rudely to Aldous, the head of Dyad (or so Delphine had assumed) — if this was anyone’s party, it was Rachel’s. 

And Rachel was looking at her again. Convinced that Delphine was Aldous’s pet. Bored.

“If Doctor Leekie would let me speak for myself,” Delphine said in a rush, “I also think we will get along very well, Ms. Duncan. It would be an honor to work with you.”

Aldous made an ugly little surprised noise; Rachel’s mouth quirked up the tiniest bit, definitely not a smile, but…something. She pulled Aldous out of Delphine’s earshot, speaking very close to his ear. 

Delphine was left alone in the party; Rachel’s party; Rachel’s party, Rachel’s people, Rachel’s presents.

…Delphine was suddenly very aware that her dress was adorned with a bow. 

________________________________________________________________

 

In her second week by Rachel’s side, Delphine asked, “Is it usual, to know that you are being monitored?” 

Rachel took a sip of the tea Delphine had made. “No.”

“Oh.”

Delphine continued paging through the profiles of Leda subjects. If she flipped the papers fast enough, the same face flickered by in a stream of slightly-changing details. 

“It is unusual, then, to be so self-aware,” Delphine confirmed. 

“Has Aldous told you nothing?” Rachel asked.

“Plenty of the science. Not terribly much about the subjects.”

“Subjects,” Rachel repeated, the word coming out like a hiss. She didn’t look angry — though Delphine couldn’t really gauge Rachel’s moods. 

“Yes,” Delphine continued. “The — you and your — “

The word “sisters” died in her throat as, with one finger, Rachel pushed her teacup over the edge of the table; it shattered on the floor. Delphine jumped. 

“I’ll be needing a new cup,” Rachel said.

 “I apologize if I caused any — “

“A new cup,” Rachel repeated. 

Delphine numbly fetched another cup. She fixed the tea with extreme care, keeping her mouth tightly closed. Rachel watched, completely still.

“Are you enjoying your work at the Dyad, Delphine?” Rachel asked. When Delphine’s fingers froze over the sugar jar, Rachel added: “You can be honest.”

“No,” Delphine said in a gamble. “I was hired as a scientist, and I am working as…something I do not understand.” 

“I see.” Rachel took a sip from the fresh cup, swirling the tea in her mouth before swallowing. “I’m sorry you feel that way. You can hand your resignation to Aldous the next time you see him.”

Delphine blinked. “I do not wish to resign.”

“Then I’m afraid we will have to let you go. Consider this your exit interview.”

 “Rachel — “ Delphine took a breath. “If you would just tell me what you want of me, I believe I could better act as your monitor.”

Rachel had already returned to her paperwork, the only acknowledgment that she had heard Delphine being a slight exhalation through her nose. Studying Rachel’s ruler-straight posture, Delphine gambled again.

 “Please let me stay,” she said. “I’ll do better.” 

Rachel’s eyes flicked to Delphine’s face, down to her shoes, back to her face. “Fine,” she said. 

She pushed the second cup off the table, keeping her eyes on Delphine. This time, Delphine didn’t jump. 

 

________________________________________________________________

 

In her seventh week by Rachel’s side, Delphine woke up to find a hair straightener tied with a silver bow lying on her dresser. 

 

________________________________________________________________

 

 

Aldous stopped by the lab occasionally; he watched Delphine work, nodding his head at everything she did. 

She could usually ignore him fairly well, even with the occasional comments about her new hairstyle. On one particularly gloomy Tuesday, however, Aldous was hovering above her shoulder, finding excuses to touch her. 

“How’s Rachel doing?” Aldous asked.

“Well. No abnormal behavior since we last spoke.” 

“Good.” When Delphine didn’t offer another leg for the conversation to stand on, Aldous tossed out: “I’ve been very pleased with your work recently, Doctor Cormier.”

Delphine readjusted the focus on her slide. “Thank you.”

“Fascinating, in my opinion,” Aldous continued. “You’re quite an asset.”

“What in particular are you referring to?”  

“All of it,” Aldous said, clapping a hand on Delphine’s back. “I might go so far as to say you work too hard.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Delphine said. Aldous’s hand slid to her shoulder, sharp fingers digging into her skin. 

“Why don’t you relax a bit?”

Delphine didn’t respond; she stared blankly at the swath of Jennifer Fitzsimmons’s cheek cells under her microscope, fiddling with the knobs. Aldous reached forward and shut off the microscope’s light.

“Aldous,” Delphine said sharply. 

 “Yes?”

Delphine flicked the light back on. “I get so little time away from Rachel. You need to let me concentrate.” 

Aldous sighed. “I’m beginning to regret assigning you as Rachel’s monitor.” 

“Why, because now the heel I am under is Rachel’s instead of yours?”

“Now, now,” Aldous said, spinning Delphine’s chair to face him. “I think we both know that’s out of line.”

“Do we?” Delphine plucked his hands off her skin. “I’m only trying to get back to work.”

“And who’s in charge of that work?”

Aldous looked at her with a sympathetic smile. Delphine’s fingers trembled with rage — reached behind her — grasped the slide off the microscope and snapped the plastic in two, Leda DNA smearing on her fingers.  

“I’ll be damned if it’s you,” Delphine said, and stormed from the lab, her hand stinging where the jagged plastic had cut it. 

She returned to her Dyad apartment, ready to clean out her things; waiting at her dining room table was Rachel, holding a box of bandaids. 

“That was quite the bridge to burn,” Rachel said.

Delphine blinked. “Did Aldous call you…?” 

“Don’t be naive.” Rachel stared at her, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Ah. Cameras in the lab.”

“Good.” Rachel rose, smiling — actually smiling. “How would you like to improve your standing in this institution without sleeping with Aldous?”

________________________________________________________________

 

Aldous Leekie died of a heart attack on a Dyad private jet. Delphine made the public announcement; never had a pre-written statement by Rachel sounded so heartfelt. 

 

________________________________________________________________

 

There was a problem, and its name was Sarah Manning. Out of nowhere, this unmonitored pest slammed into Delphine’s quiet life of research and results, skewing everything she thought she knew about the project she’d devoted a good chunk of her professional life to.

And if Delphine was shaken by Sarah’s existence, then Rachel was seismically destroyed.

Footage of Sarah and her daughter played on endless loops in Rachel’s screening room; Sarah’s health records and crime sheets were splayed over Rachel’s office, some mysteriously ripped to shreds in the brief moments when Delphine stepped out to have a cigarette. Rachel banned Delphine from pursuing anything but Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, keeping her late to pour over voicemails and restaurant receipts. 

After Rachel asked herself, for the millionth time, how Sarah had “slipped through the cracks,” Delphine forced herself to answer: 

“We won’t know unless we make contact.”

Rachel glanced away from her computer. “She can’t become self-aware."

“Rachel, it is the only way,” Delphine said. “She is looking for answers already, and if we give her a few, then she may be willing to comply with testing.”

“We don’t need her to comply.”

“Yes, but it will be helpful if she does.”

Before Rachel could reply, one of her phones buzzed; she scanned the message and made an exasperated noise.

“Compliance it is,” Rachel said, turning her phone for Delphine to see: a grainy photo of Sarah Manning with two other Ledas. 

“Who are they?” Delphine asked, squinting at the screen. 

Rachel scrolled down the message. “324b21 and 602r59.”

Delphine opened her laptop, searching the tag numbers. “Cosima Niehaus and Alison Hendrix,” she confirmed. “We can call in their monitors, if you like.”

Rachel was already back to Sarah Manning’s files. “Do.”

“Oh — Cosima Niehaus is in need of a new monitor. I can start assembling candidates.”

“No.” Rachel tapped her jaw with manicured nails, looking at Delphine. “You will assume the position of Cosima Niehaus’s monitor.”

“What?”

“Your purpose,” Rachel said, “will be to learn what she knows of Sarah Manning and her daughter. If the subject proves valuable, I will decide what further measures to take; if not, you won’t have wasted much time.”

“This is ridiculous,” Delphine said. “You wish me to —” She clicked through Cosima’s profile — “impersonate a student at her university?”

“The details are up to you,” Rachel said amusedly.

“No. I won’t do it. I am a scientist, not a —”

“What you are,” Rachel interrupted, “is entirely dependent on this institution’s needs. Might I remind you of the… _positions_ you have already assumed out of necessity for the Dyad?"  

All of the pride Delphine had swallowed over the past few months was lurching up her throat. She opened her mouth to spit fire and burn yet another bridge, but Rachel held up a finger, eying her carefully. 

“Think of the science, if nothing else,” Rachel continued. “This is your chance to study a specimen up close.”

Delphine wanted to say _what do you think I’ve been doing with you_ but if Rachel hadn’t realized that yet…well. That was quite a blind spot.


	2. Chapter 2

“She’s been following me everywhere,” Cosima said, flopped over her bed with her laptop on her stomach. “It’s kinda cute.”

“Cute in a freaky evil monitor way, then?” Sarah said over Skype. In the background, Felix clucked his tongue.

“Cute in a ‘she-doesn’t-know-how-much-I-know’ way. Which is _always_ cute.” 

“God, Cos, you’re supposed to be the smart one. These people don’t mess around.”

“But they totally do, though!” Cosima sat up too quickly, nearly sending the computer flying. “They like games and shit. You know who else likes games and shit?”

“…you?”

“Me.” Cosima grinned wider than Sarah had known their — her — mouth could stretch. “I mean, you should see me play Runewars.”

________________________________________________________________

Being with Cosima was like the peaceful lab time Delphine never got under Rachel’s schedule.

Finally, Delphine could observe a subject without the constant fear of the test going sour. That wasn’t to say that Cosima didn’t suspect her — she did — but Cosima didn’t carry her mistrust like a knife in her hand; she buried it beneath a gloss of charm. Much easier to deal with.

“You smoke?” Cosima asked her one day in the library. A librarian immediately shushed her; Cosima mouthed a big “sorry” before turning to await Delphine’s answer. 

“Cigarettes, sometimes,” Delphine whispered, eying the librarian. “Do you?”

“Yeah, but I…” Cosima mimed smoking a blunt. 

Delphine smirked. “This is not a surprise. Your clothes are often…pungent.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”

“I have tried it,” Delphine lied. “It did not do much for me. I mostly felt sick.”

“Probably ‘cause you’re so uptight, Beraud!” Cosima said. “You gotta really let yourself go, that’s when it gets good. And, man…it gets _good_. We should smoke sometime.”

Delphine flipped a page of the book she’d randomly selected off a shelf. “You are quite a free spirit.”

“You’re not,” Cosima noted. “What’s that about?”

“It’s how I’ve always been.”

“Bummer.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Delphine said, rising from her chair. “It’s getting late — do you think I could stop by tomorrow for help with the…?”

“Problem set? Yeah, sure, that looked like a bitch to do.” 

Delphine leaned down to kiss both of Cosima’s cheeks — Rachel had told her to push the French angle. “ _Merci_ , Cosima,” she said. “You are a good friend.”

As soon as she was off the university’s campus, Delphine called Rachel.

“I’ve texted you several times,” Rachel said crossly in lieu of a hello. 

“Yes, well, I’ve been with Cosima.”

“And?”

“She’s proving to be quite clever,” Delphine said. “She’s made several attempts to lower my guard already. The premise of being monitored does not seem to frighten her.”

“That’s because she knows next to nothing.” 

“I don’t think that’s true. She could catch on, Rachel.”

Rachel sighed a gush of static into the phone. “Any news on Sarah Manning?” 

“No. Cosima has not mentioned any —”

Delphine heard a click; Rachel had hung up. 

________________________________________________________________

In Rachel’s screening room, new footage of Delphine walking across a college campus with Cosima Niehaus interspersed the old tapes of Sarah and Kira. Delphine looked taller, next to Cosima. Rachel made a note to her personal shopper to buy her a higher set of heels. 

________________________________________________________________

Delphine paused outside Cosima’s dorm room ten minutes before she’d said she would arrive. From recent experience — and from the reports of past monitors — Delphine knew that Cosima was chronically late. Leaning close to the door, Delphine managed to make out:

“—like a bloody fool!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you do?”

“Yes, I do. I’ve been doing this longer and —”

“So was Beth, and we saw how that —”

“Go to _hell,_ Sarah.”

Delphine heard the name like an electric shock and called out, “Cosima?”

Something slammed from inside — some muffled noises — and Cosima opened the door, smiling easily.

“Hey!” Cosima said. “You’re early.”

“I hope I am not interrupting.” Delphine raked her eyes over the room: it was empty.

“No, no, just talking to myself.” Cosima grabbed her laptop off the bed, throwing it on the floor to make room. Delphine perched herself on the ruffled covers. 

“I’m glad we could see each other today,” Delphine said. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you.”

“Yeah?” Cosima’s smile faltered. “I mean, yeah. Me too.”

“Is something troubling you?”

“Kind of.” Cosima swallowed. “I sort of…wish you’d just be honest with me.”

Equal parts fear and pride swelled in Delphine’s chest. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. What this is really about.”

The next ten seconds were a blur of warm lips — wrong data — eyes wide and staring at that face — that face she knew — 

Delphine bolted from the room with a murmured apology to Rachel — Cosima, Cosima, an apology to _Cosima_. She sent a text with shaky fingers: “Car please.”

A Dyad car appeared on campus in minutes; Delphine threw open the door to find Rachel sitting in the backseat, head slightly cocked.

“What’s so urgent?” Rachel asked.

“I — thought you were sending a driver,” Delphine said dumbly. 

“That’s not an answer.”

“She made a pass at me,” Delphine said, closing the door behind her. Rachel’s jaw adjusted like the tightening of a screw — barely a change.

“And?”

“And,” Delphine said, brushing strands of straight hair out of her eyes, “I am not an escort.”

“Where did this occur?”

“Where —? In her room.”

Rachel tapped a high heel on the car floor. “You could have looked around and saved yourself this trouble. However, seeing as you didn’t, the solution is clear.”   


“Sleep with the subject?” Delphine let out a too-loud laugh. 

“Learn the rules of the game and play by them,” Rachel said, utterly emotionless. “Is that not what you did with me?”

As the car started, Rachel reached out an index finger and swiped a smear of Cosima’s lip gloss off Delphine’s lips, examining it with distaste. Delphine spent the ride back to the Dyad trying to scrub her mouth clean with her hand. 

________________________________________________________________

Sarah fucking hated weed.

It smelled like shit, it tasted like shit, and it made you all loopy and kumbaya-my-lord. Getting high was supposed to make you feel strobe-light fast and pounding-bass alive. Weed was just objectively terrible.

But weed was all Sarah could find in Felix’s stash, and Sarah couldn’t stop hearing Cosima telling her to go to hell go to hell go to hell, so she closed her eyes and lit up.

________________________________________________________________

Delphine sent Cosima out for something called eskimo pies, and kissed her one more time before she left. Pulling on a robe, she carefully tore through Cosima’s room: there were charts of Leda clones, DNA samples, paragraph-long biographies, and — there, Kira Manning, daughter of Sarah Manning, a “biological miracle” according to the note Cosima had scribbled next to her name. 

Giddy with success, Delphine walked to the bathroom to peruse the medicine cabinet. She flicked on the light and felt ice in her veins at the sight of blood splattering the sink, the floor, the shower.

Its positioning and size suggested Cosima had coughed it up. Her Cosima. Spitting blood like Jennifer, like Katja. Like the others.

Her phone buzzed. Delphine answered in a stupor. “Hello, Rachel.”

“Any news?”

“Yes. Cosima knows about Sarah Manning’s child. She may have even made contact. She has definitely made contact with Sarah.”

“Good,” Rachel said. “Then it’s worth it to present Cosima with a contract. Have you drawn those up yet?”

“I thought only Sarah was getting a contract.”

“Sarah’s associates might be useful. I want Cosima and Alison to sign as well.”

“Rachel,” Delphine fought to keep back the lump in her throat, “Cosima is sick.”

A pause. “Like the others?”

“She’s coughed up blood. I don’t know how much time she has.”

“Enough time to tell us what we want to know, most likely,” Rachel said. “It will still be worthwhile to give her a contract.”

“No — she — she needs help.”

“Luckily, that’s your department, Doctor Cormier.”

“We can’t bring her in only to gather information,” Delphine said raggedly. “She will need immediate medical attention — I will speak with Jennifer’s doctors —”

“Don’t tell me you’ve become invested,” Rachel said. “Cosima will be brought in for the reasons and the amount of time I deem necessary.”

“No!” Delphine slammed her hand against the sink; dried blood cracked off on her fingers. “I will not let you kill her for the sake of your Sarah Manning witch hunt.”

“‘Let me,’” Rachel breathed. “If you’ve forgotten how expendable you are, Delphine, it would be a pleasure to remind you.”

“Go ahead.” Delphine nearly lapsed into French out of anger. “What are you going to do? Give me a heart attack on a private jet? Where would you be then? I know the science better than anyone. I know the game, as you call it. You need me.”

“Your lab rat will be dead in a matter of months anyway,” Rachel said icily. 

“And so might you.”

Silence. Quietly, Rachel cleared her throat on the other end of the line. Then: “Get Cosima to sign. I am contacting Sarah Manning tonight with the Dyad’s offer.”

“You need me,” Delphine repeated. “Rachel? You —”

“I heard you,” Rachel hissed, and cut off the connection. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey,” Cosima called, knocking on Felix’s ridiculous sliding door. “So, I’m here. Are you gonna let me in, or…?”

Sarah pulled the door open a sliver. “You alone?”

“No, I thought I’d bring my monitor army over for some of that famous Sarah Manning hospitality.” Oh my god, did Sarah actually look _worried?_ “Yes, I’m alone, jesus. Open the door.”

“You’re not funny,” Sarah said, splaying out on the couch. Cosima shoved a stack of Felix’s clone drawings off a chair to make room.

“What’s so urgent, Sarah? I’m missing, like, three tests right now.”

Sarah rubbed her fists over her eyes. “You can’t tell Alison about this, alright? At least not yet.”

“Shit, okay. Did you finally chop Paul’s dick off?”

“Cos.” Sarah kept her hands over her face. “The Dyad made me an offer.”

“Whoa.”

“I got a phone call from this British bitch. Said I can live monitor-free if I agree to their terms. They’re gonna give you the same chance, and Alison.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.”

“That’s what I said, because why should we trust ‘em, right?” Sarah sat forward; she still wouldn’t look at Cosima. “So…they sent me a bunch of shit on all of our monitors — you, me, Alison — past and present.”

“Huh.” Cosima couldn’t help being a little impressed. “That’s a good peace treaty.”

“Yeah, but…listen, Cos…” Sarah opened her computer. “There’s something you need to see.”

“Newsflash, I know Delphine’s my monitor,” Cosima said. “I appreciate the…I don’t know, sympathy? But it’s really not necessary.”

“Just listen,” Sarah said, massaging her temple, and opened up a folder of audio files.

________________________________________________________________

Delphine had a box of truffles in one hand and Cosima’s contract in the other. She nudged open Cosima’s door — she didn’t feel the need to knock anymore.

“ _Bonsoir, ma moitié,_ ” she said brightly. Cosima was sitting at her desk; her eyeliner was lopsided, one eye drawn out farther than the other. “…Are you okay?”

Cosima spun her laptop to face Delphine, increased the volume, and hit the space bar. 

_“You will assume the position of Cosima Niehaus’s monitor.”_

_“What?”_

_“Your purpose will be to learn what she knows of Sarah Manning and her daughter. If the subject proves valuable, I will decide what further measures to take; if not, you won’t have wasted much time.”_

_“This is ridiculous. You wish me to impersonate a student at her university?”_

_“The details are up to you.”_

_“No. I won’t do it. I am a scientist, not a —”_

Cosima clicked on another file, staring straight ahead.

_“She made a pass at me.”_

_“And?”_

_“And I am not an escort.”_

_“Where did this occur?”_

_“Where —? In her room.”_

_“You could have looked around and saved yourself this trouble. However, seeing as you didn’t, the solution is clear.”  
“Sleep with the subject?” _

_“Learn the rules of the game and play by them. Is that not what you did with me?”_

Delphine dropped the truffles to the floor. The contract, she crushed into a ball in her hand. “I do not understand.”

“I do,” Cosima said dully. “You’re a Dyad insider and I’m not worth your time.”

“No, no!” Delphine dropped to Cosima’s side. “You are worth — more than you know.”

“God!” Cosima pushed a textbook off her desk. “I though you were one of the good ones. Alison’s monitor, he doesn’t know who the fuck he’s working for. But you? You’re at the top. It’s sick.”

“I did not know the whole story,” Delphine lied wildly. “My superiors, they told me —”

“Just shut up!” Cosima shouted. She opened her mouth again and Delphine braced herself for the explosion, but what came out was far, far worse: shaking, heaving coughs, wracking Cosima’s whole endless beautiful form. She managed to croak, “If you give a single shit about me, Delphine, get the fuck out.”

Delphine did. She stormed out of the building, heart crashing against her chest. Her phone buzzed before she could dial the number, and fuck Rachel for that, fuck her. “You rat,” Delphine snarled into the receiver.

“Hello, Delphine. Has Cosima signed her contract?”

“No, of course she has not signed. Have you been recording our every interaction?”

“Those that seemed relevant, yes,” Rachel said calmly. “This is standard procedure for the Dyad’s monitors.”

“If it were standard procedure, wouldn’t I know about it?”

“No.” Rachel drew out the word.

“This was foolish,” Delphine said, her voice rising against her will. “Cosima will not sign with the Dyad now.”

“You do her too much credit.”

“Why are you doing this?” Delphine pulled at her hair; long strands came out in her fingers. “I was helping you, was I not? Why have you poisoned her against me?”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to speak later,” Rachel said. “Something’s just come up.”

“No, don’t you dare —”

Back at the Dyad, Rachel pressed her thumb against the _end_ button. She swiveled in her chair as the doors to her office opened.

“Hello, Sarah,” she said to the disheveled figure slumping in. “My name is Rachel Duncan. Are you ready to come to terms?”

________________________________________________________________

Cosima wasn’t sure how Delphine had found Felix’s address, but she was pounding on the door, and Sarah had gone off to meet with the Dyad bitch. “Leave me alone,” she called out, trying to keep her voice from wavering. 

“Cosima, you need to let me in,” Delphine said urgently. “I have information you will want to see.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got all the information I need about you.”

“It is about your genome.”

Well, fuck.

Cosima slid back the door, praying to whatever the hell was listening that Delphine wasn’t holding a taser and a black bag. She wasn’t — instead, she was holding a sleek silver flash drive.

________________________________________________________________

“Lemme get this straight,” Sarah said. “I sign this thing, and I get to have my life? Just gotta let you poke around my internal organs once in a while?”

“Non-invasive testing and a brief interview is all we require from your visits,” Rachel said. “The rest of your time is yours, unmonitored.”

“Is that what got you this setup? Signing on the dotted line?”

Rachel searched Sarah’s face. “Not exactly.” 

“I want to know that the others will be safe.”

“Alison has already signed her contract,” Rachel said, opening the PDF on her computer for Sarah to see. “You can be assured that she will enjoy all of the same freedoms that you will once you sign.”

“And Cosima?” Sarah pushed. 

“I expect she will follow Alison’s lead soon enough.” 

________________________________________________________________

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Cosima grumbled, scrolling through the synthetic sequence. “You’re sure they didn’t just tell you how to decode this shit?”

“I was told the absolute minimum about you and your sisters,” Delphine said. 

“But you still had my DNA in your pocket.”

“Cosima, I’ve risked a lot giving you that information —”

“Yeah, I know, sorry, sorry.” Cosima suppressed a cough. “Okay. So. We’ve got an I.D. tag and a tag number, but no results. You’re sure I’m 324b21?”

“Positive.”

“Then why isn’t it…” Cosima trailed off, brow knitting. Delphine watched, breathless. “Oh. Oh! I know!”

“What is it?”

“They weren’t coding with nucleotides, but —”

Cosima typed furiously; the screen blinked _324b21,_ and then kept blinking, spitting out sentences: _This organism and derivative genetic material…_

Cosima’s eyes darted back and forth, her big proud grin collapsing like a star. “Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, no.”

________________________________________________________________

Sarah twirled a pen between her hands. “Paul didn’t seem to know much,” she said. “Alison’s husband knows even less.”

“Yes,” Rachel said, eyes focusing alternately on the pen and Sarah’s face. 

“So why did Cosima’s monitor know so much?”

“Doctor Cormier is one of the Dyad’s finest immunologists. Considering Cosima’s condition, I thought it fitting to assign her to Cosima.”

Sarah swallowed. “What d’you mean, Cosima’s condition?”

“You don’t know?” Rachel tilted her head a fraction. “I’m afraid Cosima is rather ill.”

“What’s — what’s wrong with her?”

“We aren’t quite sure,” Rachel said, “but she has exhibited similar symptoms as some of your other cohorts. I believe you met Katja Obinger?”

Sarah’s memory played on an endless loop Katja spewing blood into a tissue. “Shite,” she whispered. 

“Now, with the proper treatment, I believe Cosima could make a full recovery,” Rachel said, steepling her fingers on the desk. “The Dyad is willing to offer our every expert and resource to make her well again.”

“If I sign.”

“If you sign.” 

Sarah stared at the pen in her hands. She wished the ink wasn’t red. 

________________________________________________________________

“Delphine,” Cosima said urgently, scrambling in her pocket for her phone. “This is bad. This is, like...worst case scenario.”

“What do you mean?” Delphine asked.

“They’ve — _patented_ us. Look at this.” Cosima turned the screen for Delphine to see. “Those contracts? They’re meaningless. If Sarah signs, she’ll be signing away the little shred of freedom we still have.” 

“I see.” 

“I need to call her — she has to know what they —”

“You cracked it,” Delphine said softly, beaming, and tenderly plunged a needle into Cosima’s neck.

Cosima’s phone dropped from her suddenly-numb fingers; as the world went black, Delphine’s voice wafted, dreamlike, into her ears: _don’t be afraid. I will never leave you._

________________________________________________________________

Sarah’s clone phone stayed silent in her pocket as she signed on the dotted line. 


	4. Chapter 4

Sarah redialed Cosima’s number. She threw the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, keeping the phone to her ear with her shoulder.

_“Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice message system.”_

“Christ,” Sarah muttered, immediately redialing. Cosima hadn’t picked up five — six? — times in a row. Sarah’s first instinct after leaving the Dyad the night before had been to call, but she’d figured, let Cosima sleep, she needs it after the news about her two-faced monitor. Now, it was twelve hours later, Sarah was pacing a deserted street, and Cosima’s clone phone kept giving her that stupid voicemail.

_“Your call has — “_

Sarah kicked a stray beer can as far as she could into the street. If she knew whether Cosima had signed her contract, it’d all be well and good; they could go their separate ways and Cosima could ignore her calls all she wanted. They could live their lives, just like Rachel had said.

Somewhere nearby, a train rattled past, whistling forlornly. Sarah felt the sound in her teeth.

She dialed again. 

________________________________________________________________

When Cosima opened her eyes, there was a blonde blur sitting by her side. A part of her went _Delphine - run_ and a part of her went _Delphine - stay_ but when she slapped on her glasses, that inner turmoil cleared right up. 

A clone with a serious blonde bob watched her from a chair. “You’re awake,” the clone said. “Good.” 

“British bitch,” Cosima said groggily. When the clone’s eyes flashed like pure hellfire Cosima forced herself to focus, mumbling, “You’re the — Sarah was gonna meet with — you’re — Dyad?”

“Yes, Cosima,” the clone said, chewing her name like rancid food. “My name is Rachel Duncan, and you are currently in the Dyad Institute.”

A sharp pain in Cosima’s neck triggered a flood of memories. Her computer filled with text. Delphine on Felix’s couch. Delphine — 

“What’d she do to me,” Cosima half-slurred, lugging one too-heavy hand to her throat to feel the puncture wound there. She recognized the stiff thing under her body as a mattress, and, as her senses started to come back to her, the world assembled itself into a kind of hospital room.

“I assume you’re referring to Doctor Cormier. She brought you in for examination.” Rachel laid a clipboard on Cosima’s lap. “When you’re able, the Dyad would appreciate if you signed your contract.”

Cosima tried to laugh; nothing came out. “Who dragged you into this, sis?” she said, staring at Rachel’s blank slate of a face. 

Without rising from her seat, Rachel reached out one ghost-pale arm and plucked up the IV tube leading from a machine by the bedside to Cosima’s vein. She pinched the tube with thumb and forefinger, eyes drifting over the liquid building up against the dam she’d created. A deep ache began to grow in Cosima’s chest and stomach.

“Doctor Cormier tells me you successfully decoded the differentiated portion of your DNA,” Rachel said, fingers staying firm on the tube — Cosima tried to lift a hand to bat Rachel’s off the IV, but it was like lead. “You know, then, that your signature is merely a formality. Aside from making snide remarks, you have no options. No choice.” Rachel’s fingers tensed; Cosima was sure her nails would puncture the tube’s plastic. “So. Tell me you’ll sign.”

Cosima was starting to see bright spots in her vision — whatever that IV was giving her, she needed it back. “Sarah,” she croaked. “Did she —”

“Tell me you’ll sign.”

“Fine, yes, I’ll sign,” Cosima said weakly. Rachel released the IV; she immediately pulled out a pen, placing it delicately on top of the clipboard sitting on Cosima’s lap. Red ink leaked from the tip. 

After a few deep breaths, Cosima sloppily wrote her name. Rachel took the contract from the clipboard. “Good. Tomorrow morning, you will be escorted to your private laboratory, in which you will study the source of your illness and potentially develop a cure.”

“So, what, I live here now?” Cosima said, fighting to keep her voice level.

“Until a cure is developed, we prefer that you stay,” Rachel said.

“You can’t just keep me here. People will know I’m gone, lots of —”

Rachel brandished her signed contract. Cosima swallowed what little saliva she had; she really wished she’d at least glanced at the fine print. 

________________________________________________________________

Delphine was waiting in Rachel’s office when she got back. Rachel ignored her, filing Cosima’s contract with the others.

“How is she?” Delphine asked. 

“Well enough to start work tomorrow.”

“Surely not that soon. She has only just arrived.”

“This is not debatable,” Rachel said coldly. Delphine turned toward the office’s wall of windows, folding her arms.

“She solved it so quickly,” Delphine said, smiling at the memory. “I knew she could do it, but really, it was simply incredible. We may have ourselves a cure within a few months.”

Rachel sat at her desk. “If she lasts that long.” 

“Don’t say that. Of course she will last. I will make sure of it.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will.”

“The brain in this girl! It’s miraculous.”

“Why are you here, Delphine?” Rachel asked with a slight sigh. “Apart from your insatiable need to talk about Cosima.”

“Seeing as I am her monitor, I thought talking about Cosima is what you wanted me to do,” Delphine said. 

“Were. You _were_ her monitor. Now that she is under the Dyad’s control, your position will be changing.”

“Into her lab partner, yes?”

“Possibly.” Rachel clicked through the security camera feeds currently streaming to her computer. 

“Will I be working with her?”

“That’s unclear.”

“But you can make it clear.” Delphine approached Rachel’s desk, standing over her. “I did not bring Cosima to the Dyad just to lose contact with her.”

“You brought Cosima to the Dyad because I told you to,” Rachel said, discovering with deep displeasure that, to make eye contact with Delphine, she had to tilt her neck upwards. “Besides, I doubt she will want anything to do with you.”

Delphine pressed a hand flat on Rachel’s desk to steady herself. “Not this again. No matter the little tricks you play, Cosima will trust me again, I am sure of it. Please, Rachel, let me do my work, for goodness’ sake.”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that my actions may not universally revolve around you?” Rachel snapped. “Cosima will work best without your presence. Therefore, you will not be in Cosima’s presence.”

“She needs my help.”

“As do I, managing Cosima’s sisters.”

“ _You_ need my help?” Delphine raised an eyebrow. “To fetch your tea and fluff your pillows?”

“Watch your tone.”

“We both know I can do infinitely more for this project when I am not stuck as your lapdog.”

“You are by my side because you chose to be,” Rachel said, her features tightening. 

“Yes, you over Aldous. Ha!” Delphine combed her fingers through her hair. “Little did I know the only difference between you two is that _you_ do not wish to ravish me at work.”

Rachel suddenly seemed more engrossed than usual in her own manicured nails. After an odd, awful few seconds of silence, Rachel’s phone buzzed; she looked at the caller ID, smirked, and answered.

“Hello, Sarah.”

“What’ve you done with Cosima?” came Sarah’s harsh accent. Delphine could heard it plainly a few feet away.

“Cosima is not in danger.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you’re so concerned, come and see her for yourself,” Rachel said. “I’m sure she would be glad to have a visitor.”

“A visitor. Fucking hell.” Sarah exhaled heavily. “So you’ve locked her up, then. Yeah, I’ll visit her. And when I leave, I’m taking her with me.” 

Rachel ended the call before Sarah could. “Make sure she doesn’t break anything when she gets here,” she said to Delphine, monotone. Delphine turned on her heel and headed for the elevator. 

________________________________________________________________

Approaching the Dyad, Sarah tried to remember the first time Kira had walked on her own. Despite the vivid picture in her head — Kira wobbling toward her, arms outstretched — she genuinely didn’t know if she’d been there, or if Mrs. S had just done a stellar job telling the story. 

Whatever. This morning, she’d hugged Kira as tight as she could, and that was real, that was a memory both of them had now. Taking a shaky breath, Sarah let the bodyguards by the door escort her in.

“Sarah!” a voice called. She recognized it from the audio files — Delphine. Sure enough, a blonde woman with cartoonishly big eyes was hurrying toward her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Delphine said. “My name is —”

“I know who you are,” Sarah interrupted. “Where’s Cosima?”

“Come with me,” Delphine said kindly. She motioned to the guards to let them pass alone, and the two of them made their way through a series of winding halls. They finally stopped outside a room that, to Sarah, looked like every one of the hundred rooms they’d walked by. Delphine swiped her keycard and led Sarah inside.

“What the hell,” Sarah muttered, looking around.

One wall of the room was a one-way mirror. On the other side, Cosima lay in a hospital bed, curled into herself like a small animal. Sarah rushed to the glass.

“You can see how frail she is,” Delphine said sadly, joining Sarah. “This sickness, whatever it is — it’s nothing if not fast-moving.”

“How fast?”

“It’s hard to say.” Delphine touched Sarah’s shoulder; Sarah shook it off. “Sarah, we can help her. There is no place in the world better equipped to deal with Cosima’s illness; we may even be able to find a cure. In that case, no more of your sisters will have to suffer.”

Sarah’s eyes stayed glued on Cosima. There were traces of red around her mouth. “That doesn’t mean you get to keep her here,” she said shakily. 

“Unfortunately, with Cosima’s contract —”

“No, I read my contract. This wasn’t in the cards.”

Delphine bit her lip slightly. “Cosima’s contract contained a few alterations that were not included in yours or Ms. Hendrix’s.”

Sarah rested her head against the glass, resisting the urge to bash it all to shards. “Bastards,” she whispered. 

“If you would prefer to keep Cosima company, we can easily accommodate you.”

“Don’t act nice, I know I’m not leavin’ this place ‘til you decide I can,” Sarah said. “I just…needed to know if you’d killed her. Dissected her. Whatever you do.”

Delphine started to speak — to argue? — but she caught herself, curving her lips into a smile. “Well,” she said. “In that case, would you like to see your room?”   



	5. Chapter 5

Cosima paused to cough. Clarification: Cosima paused to cough _again._ Cosima paused to cough for maybe the hundredth time that day, and frankly, Cosima was fucking sick of it.

Co-si-ma. That’s how Delphine said it, three syllables dipped in honey. There was also the classic Cuh-sima, which she liked fine, especially when Sarah slurred it a little. She wondered how other Cosimas said their name. It’s not like they had a lot of pronunciations to choose from. _Cos_ ima. Cosi _ma._ Cos — 

A throat-splitting cough cut through her thought process. Wiping spit off her chin, Cosima tried very hard not to look at the vial of her own blood awaiting her on a sterile tabletop. She was all set up in her brand new Dyad lab and Rachel Duncan wanted cure-level results fast, but for once, Cosima wasn’t crazy about diving into the science. 

Where did her parents find the name “Cosima,” anyway? It wasn’t the kind of thing you pluck out of a baby name book. They’d never given her any reason — no named-after-so-and-so or here’s-what-it-means-to-us spiel, which was weird, because, like…how could there not be a story? 

Her eyes flicked to the camera fastened to the lab’s ceiling. If she didn’t get started soon, some Dyad muscle would be sent to glare at her until she did. With unsteady fingers, she picked up the vial, running her thumb over the label: 324b21.

________________________________________________________________

Sarah dragged her feet outside Cosima’s lab. The door was a thick slab of metal with a card reader blinking in the corner; Delphine had told her that her new Dyad ID would work there. (Of all the mugshots Sarah had taken in her life, the one on this piece of shit ID was definitely the worst.) Behind the door was, presumably, Cosima, and that was good — that was what Sarah had been promised for the three weeks she’d suffered in clone jail so far — that was the reason she’d caged herself in the first place.

Swiping her ID, Sarah expertly ignored the sudden overwhelming urge to run in the opposite direction. 

There was a figure hunched over a table inside the room; when the door opened, it jumped a bit and barked, “Okay, I’m getting to work, call off the hounds,” and oh thank _god_ it really was Cosima.

“Cos!” Sarah cried, and the sound came out more Felix-seeing-a-bug than anything else but Sarah didn’t care, she was enveloping Cosima in her arms, she was holding Cosima so tightly their pulses were pounding together and she was alive she was alive they were both alive. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Cosima asked, half-laughing. And then, brow knitting, she said, “Just one, I’m a few —”

“No family too, I’m a clone,” Sarah interrupted in a rush. “It’s me. I promise.”

“Did you — Jesus, Sarah, did you break in?” Despite her shaky grin, her voice was borderline panicky. 

“No, I’m enjoying Dyad’s hospitality as much as you are,” Sarah said. “They wouldn’t let me see you ‘til now — are you okay?”

“Oh, you know.” Cosima played with a bit of her own hair. “Um, I’m sick, if they didn’t —”

“They told me.”

“Yeah. So, that sucks.”

There was a pause in which Sarah almost said something stupid like _I’m here if you need anything,_ but Cosima spoke first:

“That’s what I’m doing in here, by the way. Rachel wants a cure, so here I am. Professional cure monkey.”

“Good,” Sarah said immediately. “You fix your busted biology and then we get out of here.”

Cosima touched Sarah’s arm gently; there were remnants of ancient nail polish on her fingers. “I don’t think I’m getting out of here,” she said softly. 

“Don’t start with that talk.”

“Really, Sarah. They wrote it into my contract: I work for them until I’m no longer ‘of use.’”

“What does the contract matter if we’re not playing by their rules?” Sarah said, pulling Cosima’s hand off her arm. “I’m saying we get the cure and bolt.”

“Okay, well, I don’t know how you bolt from a building with like ten different clearance levels on its doors.”

“We’ll find a way.”

“They’d hunt me down. It isn’t worth it — honestly, if you have the chance to walk out of here alone, you should totally —”

“I didn’t leave my daughter again just to watch you die,” Sarah snapped. 

Sarah had wanted the sentence to hang in the air like a promise, like a solution, but the words left her mouth and were very much gone. With a small, sad smile, Cosima took Sarah’s hand, interlocked their fingers, and squeezed. 

 

________________________________________________________________

 

Rachel watched Sarah Manning enter the laboratory and wrap herself around Cosima like a ragdoll. The embrace lasted what seemed like a decade. When they pulled apart, Rachel rewound the footage, watched them collide, rewound again.

It was pathetic, the way Cosima rested her head on Sarah’s shoulder. Cosima surely knew the interaction would be recorded; she glanced up at the security camera often enough. Yet, still, she subjected Rachel to this disgusting display, allowing herself to be consumed by Sarah like so much low-grade cocaine. Head on shoulder, rewind. Head on shoulder, rewind. 

Rachel didn’t realize she was dragging her nails down her cheek until there were stinging marks there. 

With her other hand, she pressed a speed dial on her phone. 

“Hello, Delphine,” she said. “I would like you to join me for dinner tonight.” 

 

________________________________________________________________

 

The card reader on the lab door chirped; someone was coming in. “They send bodyguard types to intimidate me,” Cosima explained to Sarah, but the door opened to reveal something much more intimidating: Delphine.

“No way!” Cosima blurted, grabbing Sarah and taking several mammoth steps back. “I told you, I don’t want you here. You send the research through a lackey or you don’t send it at all.”

“Cosima, this is growing tiresome,” Delphine said. “You know you do not have the power to ban me from the area.”

“Yeah, but I have the power to bitch at you ‘til you leave. Which you should.”

Sarah felt a thrill of fear at the way Delphine’s eyes deadened. “Don’t be stupid,” Sarah hissed at Cosima. 

“Rachel’s gonna be pissed if I can’t work,” Cosima continued, ignoring Sarah. “Do you want to be the one to tell her you fucked up my schedule by showing up?”

“Sarah,” Delphine said coldly, her eyes staying on Cosima, “it’s time for you to return to your room. There is something we need to discuss.”

Sarah blinked. “Me?” 

“Yes, you. Come along.”

“Wait — can’t she —” Cosima followed Sarah to the door, her hands fluttering anxiously. 

“Let’s go,” Delphine said, gesturing to the hallway outside. Sarah slunk out, looking over her shoulder as she did. “You look lovely today,” Delphine said to Cosima as she pulled the door shut.

 

________________________________________________________________

 

That night, Delphine approached Rachel’s suite with a bottle of wine. Sarah had taken the news of her impending oopherectomy relatively well; there had been far less furniture-smashing than Delphine had anticipated, and only slightly more screaming. All in all, it had been a good day, even with Cosima’s childish tantrum. Those would end soon, Delphine was sure. 

She knocked on the door; from inside, Rachel called, “It’s open.” Delphine entered, smoothing a hand through her hair. 

“The operation has been scheduled for next Tuesday,” Delphine said, joining Rachel at the unnecessarily-long dining room table. “Sarah is processing the news.”

“Yes,” said Rachel simply, and Delphine remembered the security camera in the corner of Sarah’s room. “Good work.”

“Thank you.” Delphine uncorked the wine, pouring them both generous glasses. “I will tell Cosima tomorrow. Or should Sarah tell her? It is difficult to know, with Cosima. Her reactions are so volatile.”

“Mm.”

“She is eating well, I am told,” Delphine said, taking a sip of her wine. “Sarah is not, but that will change in the coming week. She will want her strength before the surgery, don’t you think?”

Rachel didn’t answer, but Delphine was used to that. The hand snaking out to cup the back of her neck, on the other hand, was a surprise. 

“Rachel—?” Delphine met Rachel’s gaze; it was as rigid as the fingers pressing themselves against her neck in the basest possible imitation of a caress. Rachel’s face was like stone. Rachel’s face was also like — 

The moment the thought crossed her mind, Delphine closed the space between them, sensing a window of opportunity. Their lips barely touched before Rachel drew back. 

“You’re thinking of her,” Rachel commented.

“Who are you thinking of?”

Without a word, Rachel slid onto Delphine’s lap, and both of them closed their eyes. 


	6. Chapter 6

Rachel sat on a chair by her bedroom’s window, a satin robe draped around her shoulders. The night outside was slowly paling to day; her reflection in the window grew fainter by the minute, and she watched it leave her, staring into her own fading eyes. 

When the window became just a window, Rachel extracted a compact mirror from her purse. In it, she saw her skin glowing from the weak light spilling in; she saw her hair cleanly cut and falling perfectly around her face; and, over her shoulder, she saw Delphine.

It had become protocol, over the past few evenings, that Delphine left afterward. She did so without being told; Rachel was proud of this. But last night, Delphine had fallen asleep spread out across the mattress, and Rachel had perched on a nearby chair, and now here they were. 

Rachel freshened her lipstick in the compact mirror, tilting the glass slightly so the bed was fully in view. Delphine’s chest rose and fell in deep, even breaths; despite the fact that one of her wrists was still secured to a bedpost with thick silver ribbon, her posture was devoid of tension, utter comfort. She was _comfortable_ here. 

Rachel thought of Daniel. She thought of Ferdinand. She snapped the mirror shut.

Delphine awoke with a small soft noise; she blinked, yawned, and stretched, arching her back off the bed. (Rachel took that time to examine her manicure.) When her eyes found Rachel, she squinted and murmured, “Cosima?”

Rachel thought of Jennifer Fitzsimmons. She thought of Katja Obinger. She smiled. “No,” she said, turning back to the window. “Not Cosima.”

________________________________________________________________

Cosima hadn’t slept in two — three days? Three days. Excluding cat naps, of course. She felt fine, honestly. Everything was starting to seem really funny, but apart from that, she was five by five.

T-minus 48 hours until Sarah went under for surgery. Delphine had pretended to be sad for approximately five seconds when she broke the news, but soon it was all _ah, cherie, think of the science,_ and _this must be difficult for you, pauvre chose._ Cosima was kind of starting to hate the French language in general. 

Whistling an old song, Cosima walked exactly eleven steps from the right of her lab bench and faced the camera. At that moment, the keycard reader beeped, and Sarah entered, accompanied by a Dyad guard (who slammed the door behind him). 

“You look awful,” Sarah said.

“Same face, dude. Don’t know what to tell you.”

“When was the last time you got some sleep?” Sarah rolled up her sleeve automatically; Cosima had to take her blood every day before she went on the cutting table. 

Cosima prepped the needle. “I’m fine. How’re you?”

“Been better.”

They went through the motions in silence: needle in, blood in vial, bandaid on Sarah. As Cosima labeled the vial, a cough began to claw its way up her throat. She tried to swallow it down, and boy, that was a mistake — it erupted back up with a vengeance, and soon she was doubled over, waving off Sarah’s nervous questions while she coughed herself raw. 

“Here, sit, c’mon.” Sarah eased her into a chair, rubbing small circles into her back. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Cosima gestured to a nearby counter. “There’s water on the —”

“Yeah, of course.”

Sarah shoved a water bottle into her hands. Her first gulp was rudely interrupted by another cough, but the second went down, and the third; eventually, the storm ceased, and Cosima was sitting there breathing just fine. Sarah, on the other hand, was nearly hyperventilating.

“I swear to god, Cos,” Sarah said, her lower lip trembling slightly. “If you die on me, I’ll bloody kill you.”

Cosima snorted. “Let’s focus on you for now.”

“Yeah, ‘cause nothing’s ever about _me._ ” Sarah wiped at her eyes when she thought Cosima wasn’t looking. “You should’ve never let me into clone club.”

“You’re in clone club whether you like it or not,” Cosima said. She glanced at the security camera. “Hey — I think I have something that’ll make you feel better.”

Cosima took Sarah’s hand, stepped to the right of her lab bench, and walked exactly eleven steps forward.

“What’s —”

“Shut up for a second.” Cosima shuffled in place, then raised both middle fingers to the camera on the ceiling. She also stuck out her tongue, and crossed her eyes, and Sarah didn’t know what was going on but she couldn’t say she wasn’t enjoying it. 

“Blind spot,” Cosima mouthed, nodding at the camera. She then reached under a countertop and carefully pulled out an odd little spring-loaded contraption. Into its center she loaded a scalpel, and mimed pulling the trigger. 

“Holy hell,” Sarah breathed.

Cosima grinned. “We’re not going down without a fight.” 

________________________________________________________________

The videos were looping — flickering — Sarah smiling Sarah laughing Sarah smiling again had she seen that one before was she going to see it again was the projector going mad

Was the

Was she

Rachel watched the video Rachel drank a martini Rachel watched the video Rachel drank a martini and RACHEL laughed RACHEL smiled RACHEL pulled a hoodie over her head 

Somewhere Delphine was thinking about Cosima somewhere Sarah was thinking about Cosima somewhere Cosima was thinking she mattered and Rachel was, Rachel was, Rachel was,

Rachel was thinking. 

________________________________________________________________

Delphine was really lucky that Cosima was having a coughing fit when she decided to burst into the room uninvited, because if Cosima had had enough air in her lungs, you better believe she’d be yelling.

“Drink this,” Delphine instructed, producing a bottle of water from seemingly nowhere. Cosima waved it away. 

“Not drinking your koolaid,” she spluttered.

“Fine.” Delphine sat on Cosima’s bed, waiting patiently for the coughing to calm down. When it did, Cosima cleaned her glasses on her shirt, taking her sweet time. 

“Why are you here?” Cosima finally asked. 

“Sarah is not going to survive the surgery.”   


Cosima’s blood chilled. “What, you’re gonna kill her?”

“Rachel is. You can be sure of that.”

Cosima’s eyes darted to the security camera. “Uh, Delphine—”

“It’s disabled for now — but our time is limited. Listen to me. I was hired into this organization with little to no understanding of its ultimate goals. I was very near quitting until I met you.”

“Oh my god, save me the monologue.” Cosima glanced at the camera again.

“Listen!” Delphine leaned forward, her hands clasped. “You have every right to doubt me, but the fact of the matter is Sarah Manning will be dead in two days unless we act, and soon. I can help you.”

“I don’t want your —”

“You think that miniature catapult you built will be of any use?” Delphine brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Yes, I know of your little project. Clever, but impractical. Rachel will not be taken down by an entry for a science fair. You need someone with connections.”

“So, you.”

“Yes.”

Cosima sat on the floor, crossing her legs underneath her. “You doing this out of the goodness of your heart?” she asked.

“I’m doing this because I am tired of the Dyad existing under Rachel’s thumb.”

“Okay, sure, but you’re risking a lot. You’re telling me you don’t expect anything from my end?”

“Well…” Delphine smiled slightly. “I do ask that you give me a chance. You do not have to care for me the way I care for you,” she added quickly off Cosima’s low groan, “but you mustn’t continue assuming that I am some sort of monster. We are on the same side now, non?”

Cosima pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “Promise me that Sarah gets to live her life after this shit’s over.”

“Yes, Sarah will be able to live an unmonitored life, as per her contract.”

“And what about my contract?”

Delphine knelt on the floor by Cosima’s side, gently touching her arm. Cosima sighed. She had her answer. 

________________________________________________________________

The day before her surgery, Sarah was allowed into Cosima’s lab one last time. She rolled up her sleeve instinctively as she swiped her ID; the healing pinpricks from past needles dotted her inner elbow. Cosima was sitting at her lab bench, facing away from the door.

“Alright, let’s do this, Niehaus,” Sarah said, trying her best to sound cheery. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Cosima didn’t respond. Sarah joined her at the table, extending her arm and turning away — seeing a needle in her arm brought back way too many unpleasant memories. Cosima took the sample, placing a bandaid over the new pinprick. 

“You okay?” Sarah asked. “You’re quiet. S’ not like you.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Cosima said, playing with one of her dreads. “It’s just…scary, you know? The surgery.”

“I know.” Sarah grasped one of Cosima’s hands. “It’s gonna be fine. I’ve been through worse, trust me.” Her heart pounding uncomfortably against her chest, Sarah took a deep breath. “Hey, Cos?”

“Mm?”

“I know this isn’t the best timing, but…uh…” Sarah awkwardly got to her feet, dragging Cosima to roughly where Sarah remembered the security camera’s blind spot to be. “Shite, I’m not good at this. It’s just…”

“What is it?” Cosima adjusted her glasses.

“Ah, hell.” Before her nerves got the better of her, Sarah crushed her mouth against Cosima’s. For a terrifying second, there was no response; then, thankfully, Cosima kissed back, placing a hand on the back of Sarah’s neck. 

A sudden stab of pain — there was a needle sticking out of Sarah’s jugular — the world began to grow faint, and as Sarah’s legs gave out, she grabbed out wildly, grunting, “Cosima —”

Her hand wrapped around one of Cosima’s dreads, and to Sarah’s horror, the whole mess of hair pulled off and dropped to the floor. “No,” said Rachel, removing the glasses and snapping them in her hand. “Not Cosima.”


	7. Chapter 7

When Sarah was little, she used to dream about having the smallest birthday party in the world. Her foster families gave her halfhearted presents and store-bought cake when they even remembered at all, and then it was off to work, off to school, never a sit-down event that was all about Sarah. All she’d wanted was one perfect party guest — one guest who loved her so much, everything else would seem meaningless to them in comparison. 

When Sarah woke up strapped to a hospital bed with Rachel Duncan staring at her hungrily, she remembered that dream. She wished she hadn’t. 

“The hell,” Sarah mumbled, throwing all her strength against the restraints on her arms. 

“Sarah Manning,” Rachel said softly, taking a step toward the bed. “The unmonitored urchin from god knows where.”

Sarah took stock of her surroundings: they were in a blindingly white room, very clean, very empty. Smelled like clorox. Couple of tables near the wall, not much on them. “What’re — what’re you doing?”

“Your surgery’s been moved up,” Rachel said, and raised her right hand so Sarah could see, glittering in the fluorescent light, a scalpel.

________________________________________________________________

“We need to go,” Delphine instructed as she strutted into the lab.

Cosima plucked off her goggles. “What’s —”

“Rachel has gone mad,” Delphine said, holding up her phone: on it, grainy footage showed someone bolted down to a bed and oh no, oh that was Sarah, oh shit.

Delphine was swiping everything she could — forceps, slides, blood samples — into a box. “This will not be your lab once Rachel is gone,” she said, eyes not quite focused. Cosima grabbed her homemade spring-loaded thingamajig before it could be confiscated. “You will be moving up in the world — we both will. But for now — come, come.”

Delphine took Cosima’s hand and pulled her from the room.

________________________________________________________________

“You don’t have to do this,” Sarah said, more to fill time than to convince Rachel of anything.“You need my biology, yeah? It’ll be no good if you slice me to ribbons. You need something to give to the lab.”

“The lab,” Rachel repeated. She was tapping the scalpel gently against her own cheek. “Cosima.”

Sensing danger, Sarah quickly said, “Or someone else.”

“The lab,” Rachel repeated again, her mouth barely moving. “The lab _rat_. From birth, she has never exhibited anything approaching distinction. I have watched her. That time was wasted.”

“You watched her?” Sarah shouldn’t be surprised, but her stomach still lurched a bit.

“She is nothing.” Rachel approached the bed, eyes fixed on the scalpel. “Just another one of them. So tell me.” She leaned over Sarah, laying the blade lightly on her chest. “Why her?”

“Why her what?” Sarah pressed herself as flat as she could against the mattress.

Rachel seemed to have lost interest in the question. She pressed down enough for the scalpel to break skin; Sarah cursed loudly as a rivulet of red stained her shirt. Just then, there was a chirping noise by the door — someone was trying their keycard.

“That won’t work,” Rachel said absently, dragging the scalpel lower. “The access to this room has been restricted to only the highest-ranking Dyad operatives.”

“Help!” Sarah shouted, and Rachel didn’t stop her; in fact, she looked amused. “This crazy bitch is out for blood!”

“Come now, Sarah.” Rachel bared her teeth in what was very much not a smile. “Who do you think can help you now? _Cosima_?” 

________________________________________________________________

Cosima was throwing herself against the door while Delphine swiped her keycard again and again. “You are going to hurt yourself,” Delphine said, exasperated.

“I’m gonna hurt that bitch,” Cosima snarled, perpetually coughing. “Get us in. You need to get us in.”

“I am trying.” Delphine examined the keycard reader. “Ah — I might be able to reset the system,if — hm — give me a moment —”

“Sarah!” Cosima yelled. She pounded on the door, feeling tears welling up in her eyes, which was just embarrassing.

“Cosima?” Delphine was looking at her strangely — more strangely than usual. She was completely still, keycard hovering just over the scanner. 

“Yes?” 

“You promise, if we save Sarah’s life, that you will give me a chance?”

“Jesus fucking christ!” Cosima’s hands nearly wrung themselves into a knot. “Open the fucking door!”

Delphine lowered the keycard. “You asked me before if I am doing this out of the goodness of my heart,” she said calmly. “I am not.”

Cosima cupped Delphine’s face, kissed her hurriedly, murmured some bullshit about soulmates and the power of love and forgiveness; Delphine beamed, and the door clicked open. 

________________________________________________________________

“Oh, thank fuck,” Sarah groaned when the door swung forward. Rachel stood, the bloody scalpel clutched in her hand.

“Delphine,” Rachel said. She sounded bored. “I see you’ve forgotten, once again, how incredibly expendable you are.”

Cosima wasn’t about to wait around for a supervillain-style showdown. She lunged toward the bed, dropping her spring-loaded thing; Rachel lunged quicker, grabbing Cosima around the waistand pressing something sharp against her throat.

“Don’t,” Delphine warned. 

“It would be so easy,” Rachel breathed. She held Cosima with her fingertips, avoiding as much contact as possible. “All your work, gone. Dead. What would you do then, Doctor Cormier?”

“You’re not thinking.” Delphine took a tentative step. “The board does not trust you. All of Dyad is looking for an excuse to get rid of you. You must know this.”

“How _dare_ you _—”_

“You need me,” Delphine said. Rachel let the scalpel knick Cosima’s throat; Delphine held up her palms, begging peace. “They trust me. I can save your career.”

Rachel paused; considered; decided. While staring down Delphine, she leaned close to Cosima’s ear and said, “I believe your girlfriend spread her legs faster for me than she did for you.”

It was pure luck that Cosima had a coughing fit that doubled her over, because Delphine dove for Rachel and Rachel swung the scalpel at Cosima’s neck. Cosima landed on the floor, a shallow gash stinging just below her chin. Rachel and Delphine were tearing each other apart, but Rachel had dropped the scalpel, and Cosima grabbed it, scrambled to Sarah’s side, hacked at the restraints until they fell away — Sarah was up, and oh, that made Rachel turn from Delphine real fast. 

“No,” Rachel growled, starting toward Sarah; Delphine rushed to Cosima’s side, but Cosima batted her away, grabbed the fallen scalpel, ran at Rachel; Rachel turned, terrifyingly fast, caught Cosima’s wrist and twisted hard, sending the scalpel flying; it was all a blur, and she was still coughing, coughing, coughing, and now she was on the floor, holding her aching stomach, useless. Her spring-loaded thing was within reach, but the scalpel was too far — okay, think — god, Sarah was screaming, why was Sarah screaming — something bright caught her eye — Rachel had dropped something — a pen — well, when in Rome — 

Cosima loaded the pen into the center of her contraption, aimed, and shot. Someone was screaming — it wasn’t Sarah. 

Rachel fell like Goliath, crash, boom, crumpled on the ground. The pen was sticking out of her eye; Sarah saw this and yelped, getting to her feet (but not before pocketing Rachel’s ID card). “Well, look at my prince bloody charming,” she said shakily, clutching Cosima’s shoulder to steady herself. 

“Oh my god, Sarah, I’m so glad you’re —”

“Yeah, yeah. Save it for when we’re…not here.”

The pair of them turned to find Delphine waiting by the door, grinning. “We did it,” she said brightly. “I think congratulations are in order. Cosima, if you would return to your room, we can —”

Sarah’s fist caught Delphine squarely on the jaw, and Delphine fell, not quite Goliath, but a far cry from David. With a last look at the wreckage they were leaving behind, the pair of renegade clones took Rachel’s ID and began their escape.

________________________________________________________________

Four miles from the Dyad, Sarah stopped running and collapsed to the ground, panting. Cosima joined her; they sat, looking around at their non-clone-jail surroundings. 

“Still breathing?” Sarah asked.

Cosima nodded. “You?”

“Barely.” Sarah focused on her lungs expanding, contracting, expanding. “They’re gonna come after us, you know.”

“I know.”

“Where are you gonna go?”

Cosima looked at her incredulously. “Wherever you go.”

“Oh.” Sarah looked up at the sky. “You need science stuff, though. To fix your —”

Cosima took her hand, and Sarah wished, just once, she would do that when they didn’t have reason to be fucking miserable. “Let’s not think about that, okay?” Cosima said. “I wanna think about the good things. We’re out. You’re gonna see your daughter. You’re…” Cosima paused; her fingers went slack in Sarah’s hand.

“Cos?” Sarah brought her knees to her chest, awaiting some awful realization, but Cosima smiled with an easiness Sarah hadn’t seen since before their Dyad stay. 

“Hey,” Cosima said slowly, bringing Sarah’s hand to her lips. “Does Kira still have any of her baby teeth?”

________________________________________________________________

Delphine’s ears were ringing when she came to. The world assembled itself around her, bright white walls, cold hard floor. Somewhere to her left, she heard a sort of whining; holding her head, Delphine turned, and there was Rachel.

Delphine crawled to Rachel’s side, examining the damage done. The eye was punctured, yes, but the lips the same, the nose the same, the face — the face she knew — still intact. 

Rachel’s mouth quivered, and after a struggle, the words came out garbled and sad: “I’m dying.”

“No — no, you’re not,” Delphine murmured, tenderly stroking a hand down Rachel’s bloodstained cheek. “I won’t let you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This fic was a blast to write. (If you have any OB prompts you'd like me to write, please send 'em my way; I need something new to work on.)


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